


In the Morning

by Alyson_Page



Series: Birdtalker [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Family Issues, Feelings are catching, Flirting, Friends to something else, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnotism, If tacos be the food of love eat on, Injury, Jason Todd to the Rescue, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Relationship, References to Drugs, Slow Build, Tim Drake is Oracle, Undercover, Vomiting, definitely flirting, for the night, worried Barbara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyson_Page/pseuds/Alyson_Page
Summary: “Hood I need you at Kramer and Downey.”Barbara’s voice cut in sharp as he arched mid swing. He retracted his grapple, controlling his descent, the hard sole of his boots hitting the ledge of the building. “Copy that. Details?”“Red’s missed a check in.”“How far past?” Jason asked.“Three minutes.”Jason swallowed hard. “That’s not like him. What’s the situation?”“I don’t…” Barbara started, a strange catch in her throat.“O? What’s the situation?”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Birdtalker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677238
Comments: 268
Kudos: 971





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Part Two of my Jay/Tim series. This collection centers around more vigilante incidents. I have basicalliy zero experience writing action, so I'm doing my best! Not Beta'd.

Stuck inside a cycle of opinions  
Where there's two clear ways  
And I always take the easy one  
And I'm always left with the taste in my mouth  
I will do better in the morning  
  
Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

_“Hood I need you at Kramer and Downey.”_

Barbara's voice cut in sharp as he arched mid swing. He retracted his grapple, controlling his descent, the hard sole of his boots hitting the ledge of the building. “Copy that. Details?”

_“Red’s missed a check in.”_

“How far past?” Jason asked.

_“Three minutes.”_

Jason swallowed hard. “That’s not like him. What’s the situation?”

 _“I don’t…”_ Barbara started, a strange catch in her throat.

“O? What’s the situation?”

 _“I don’t know,”_ She breathed. _“I don’t know, he’s been undercover for three weeks. I’ve only had his location when he contacts me.”_

“What?” Jason hissed, his feet already moving across the roof tops back towards where he had stashed his bike.

_“I don’t have any details about the case. He’s been working solo, B thinks he’s with the Titans, and he only let me on to run check in. BB isn’t state side. BG is with N in Bludhaven. And you’re the closet to his last known location.”_

“Coordinates.”

_“36.25. -93.13”_

“I’m on route, should be there in a few minutes.”

“ _Be careful. I’m in your ear.”_

On the bike he arrived at the location in less than five minutes. He replaced one of his magazines with standard bullets, leaving the rubber ones behind, the buzz in the back of his head assuring him they were necessary. The building was delipidated, stuck unimpressively amongst some of the larger, abandoned factories. With a running start he launched himself on to the service ladder, pulling himself up until his feet found purchase on the lowest rung. The climb was quick, and a swift peak over the lip of the roof showed the area was deserted. The covering on the massive ventilation system was only hanging by a single bolt, and it swiveled out of the way without much resistance. Jason secured a line, letting it take his weight as he slid down the shaft. He touched down as delicately as he could before he started a slow creep through the space.

Jason muted the external sound on his helmet, his voice staying safely muffled inside. “Did you see anyone outside the building?”

_“Cameras in the area are limited. I saw a lot of movement leaving the vicinity within the last hour, sporadic bursts of two and threes. At least fifty people.”_

“Any reports from the area?”

Jason could hear the rapid snick of her mouse as she clicked through her system. _“Vandalism, Squatting. A few robberies. But nothing specific for this building.”_

“Okay O, I’m going dark. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Jason continued his crawl until he heard the rough din of voices. He made a left, moving as quietly as possible until he reached the slatted opening in the metal. He hovered above the happenings below him, crouching so he straddled over the vent. Two figures stood just in Jason’s view, a taller, grizzled looking blonde, who was pulling on the arm of a rotund bald man.

“We need to get out of here,” The blonde hissed, leaning toward the gated opening of the chain link cell they were standing in. “What if he’s a cop?”

“He isn’t old enough to be a cop,” Baldey snarled, cracking his blood-stained knuckles.

“A cadet then, they take them out of the academy to do this sort of things. Stings.”

“I don’t care who is, we have buyers coming tomorrow and this little shit cost us. I’m gonna kill him.”

“He’s as good as now with what you gave him, lets go!”

Jason slammed through the vent, landing on top of the blonde man with a thud and rendering him unconscious. The gun in his right hand was out and aimed at the man he missed, and with a twitch of his finger he sent a bullet through each of his knees before lodging one in the exposed joint of the man beneath him for good measure. Ignoring the pained cries and curses Jason turned his attention to the only other occupant of the cage.

Tim was bound, hanging limp in a chair. Dark strands hung long past his shoulders, knotted and ragged, as if he had been dragged across the floor, a sizeable spattering of hair was strewn across the soiled ground. His clothes were torn and dirty, faded secondhand items too garish for Tim’s usual style. Bare feet, swallow skin, all mottled with bruising and blood. Whatever he had been doing for the last few weeks had not been kind to his replacement. Jason drew a knife from his boot and with a swift, upward pull he severed the rope and caught Tim’s weight, bringing him to the floor.

Jason reengaged his voice modulator, rolling Tim over. “Hey, hey hey hey, Red, open your eyes. Come on.” He cradled Tim’s slack head, rubbing a gloved hand against his unmarred cheek and Tim’s heavy-lidded eyes opened a fraction. “That’s it, come Pretty Bird, let me see those eyes.”

When Tim managed to open them fully, Jason saw he was wearing brown contact lenses. The right one was torn, almost half of it missing, and the natural blue of his iris was nothing but a sliver against the black pit of his blown-out pupil.

“ _Shit_ ,” Jason hissed, rapidly checking Tim’s neck and arms for needle marks. “What did they give you?”

Tim’s eyes fell closed, his head falling back again. A grunt from behind Jason had him on his feet in seconds. He threw the groaning man against the wall, his arms pressed hard into his throat, pinning him inches above the ground, “ _What did you give him!_ ”

The man chocked against the pressure, gurgling helplessly.

“I swear to god if you don’t tell me what you gave him right now, I will blow your fucking brains out.”

The man flailed his arm, pointing erratically towards the ground. Jason spotted the uncapped pill bottle and growled. With one smooth motion he raised his gun and cracked it into the man’s skull, letting him crumble to the ground. He crossed back to Tim, discarding his helmet and bringing his ear down to Tim’s nose and mouth, holding his own breath to catch any sign of Tim’s. It was faint, but still there.

“Hold on Tim,” Jason muttered, ripping off his glove, and rolling him on to his side, “Sorry about this.” Jason shoved two fingers down Tim’s throat until he emptied the sparse contents of his stomach, a handful of half dissolved pills splattering on the floor. “That’s it. Good job Pretty Bird. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Jason put his helmet back on and gathered Tim up in his arms. “O, I’ve got him. I’ll keep you updated. I’ve got two here who will need picking up. Ambulance, if you’re feeling generous.”

_“How is he?”_

“Alive,” Jason offered shortly, making his way out of the building.

It was a quick journey to his nearest safe house, and he had Tim settled on a couch, hooked up to IVs in minutes. Once Jason checked Tim’s vitals and was sure he was stable, he started cataloguing the injuries. The collar of bruising around his neck was in varying shades of healing. Faded gold and brown with splotched greens, topped with dark purples, all ugly, but not permanently damaging. Bruised ribs, but no signs of swelling, they would be sore but most likely weren’t broken.

Jason gently tilted Tim’s head, adjusting a lamp to shine down on him. A bleeding cut across his cheek showed where he took a particularly hard hit. Carefully, Jason slipped a long, thin pair of tweezers into Tim’s ear and extracted the remains of the broken earpiece. Jason examined the area for any bleeding, but thankfully didn’t see any.

Sifting through the artificial hair Jason found the patch of Tim’s head where the hair had been ripped out. Grabbing the bottle of antiseptic, he poured it liberally over a cotton ball, dapping the raw flesh gingerly, before removing as many of the extensions as could. Tim continued to breath steady, and Jason tucked him under a few blankets before setting himself up for the long watch. He curled up in an armchair with a blanket of his own, pulled a book on to his lap, and called Barbra.

_“How is he doing?”_

“I think he’s going to be fine. He’s beat up but his vitals look good. What ever they dosed him with should be working its way out of his system.”

_“Thank you, Jason. I’m going to be up, call me if anything changes. I owe you, for this. When you need a favor, it’s yours.”_

“I’ll keep that in mind Babs,” Jason smiled lightly, looking back over Tim’s sleeping form. “Just, maybe don’t let him do something this stupid again? I don’t think you want to owe me too many favors.”

Jason hung up the phone, opening his book to where he had left off in his reading. Hopefully there were enough pages to get him through the night.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason leaned forward, his mouth pinched in a tight frown, “So, why don’t ya tell me what the hell you think you were doing going undercover with no back up? And why was it a secret from Bruce?”
> 
> “I couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t have given me to the go ahead.”
> 
> “Well maybe that would have been the right call,” Jason snapped.
> 
> Tim frowned deeply, “Jason-“
> 
> “What were you doing?” Jason interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone is doing well during this strange and unusual time. The story presses on, unbeta'd as is my usual fashion. Thank you all the wonder readers who have left kudos and comments, and have bookmarked the story. I hope everyone continues to enjoy.

Tired and worn from the patterns I've carved  
I will do better in the morning

  
Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

Tim blinked through the fog, forcibly trying to clear the blurred gloopyness from his vision. He winced, his brain sorting through the hot spots of pain as he registered them in different parts of his body. Suppressing the groan that clawed at the base of his throat Tim turned his head, letting his eyes focus on the room. He could make out Jason across from him, reading a book, his mouth occasionally moving around a word as he smiled.

“Damn,” he grunted, as he forced himself up right.

“Finally awake,” Jason said, setting his reading down.

“Feels like I should be dead,” Tim wheezed, his throat raw. He reached up, peeling the contacts out of his eyes with his fingers, discarding them in the trashcan that was filled with the remains of the emergency patch job, before fixing his gaze on Jason. “You mouth some of the words when you read.”

“Just words I like,” Jason frowned. “And you were singin’ in your sleep, so stones and a glass house, Drake.”

Tim tilted his head, surprised by Jason’s comment, “What was I singing?”

“Couldn’t really make out the words. Sounded something like Coconuts singing about gum?”

“The kookaburra Song,” Tim realized slowly. “Mrs. Mack used to sing it to me when I was kid. _Kookaburra sits in the old Gum Tree, eating all the gum drops he can see. Laugh, Kookaburra laugh, kookaburra gay your life must be_.” Tim finished the song with his lips clamped tight and he could feel heat creeping up his neck, woefully embarrassed by his compulsion to vocalize the ditty.

Jason didn’t seem to notice, he just shrugged, and started folding his blanket, “Maybe your mind was tryin’ to self soothe.”

“Maybe,” Tim nodded, clearing his throat. “What happened, exactly? Did I call for an extraction?”

“No, you missed your check in, so Barbie called me. And lucky she had, or your heart probably would’ve given out on the overdose or you could’ve chocked to death on your own vomit,” Jason leaned forward, his mouth pinched in a tight frown, “So, why don’t ya tell me what the hell you think you were doing going undercover with no back up? And why you kept it a secret from Bruce?”

“I couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t have given me to the go ahead.”

“Well maybe that would have been the right call,” Jason snapped.

Tim frowned deeply, “Jason-“

“What were you doing?” Jason interrupted.

“It was a human trafficking ring. I thought I could get everyone out if I was on the inside, and I did,” Tim held his hands up in restrained triumph, “Mission accomplished!”

“Did ya miss the part about you almost dyin’?”

“Did you miss the part about saving people from slavery?”

“That’s not a solo job,” Jason berated. “Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you tell Barbie what was really goin' on?”

“I’m capable of doing things on my own.” Tim said flatly. “I took care of it.”

Jason shot up from his seat, “I could’ve helped you.”

“I…” Tim fumbled, his brow drawing together, “you don’t do team ups.”

“I work with Kori and Roy all the time.”

“I know, but you don’t do team ups with…well us.”

“I-“ Jason turned, his arm coming to a sudden stop mid flippant gesture. “Okay, that’s true. But it’s not as if you’ve ever asked.”

Tim nodded slowly, not able to formulate a proper response as he fiddled with the frayed edge of the tear on the knee of his jeans.

“Hungry?” Jason finally asked, heading towards the kitchenette.

Tim perked up slightly, “Coffee?”

“Tea.”

“Teas fine.” Tim removed the IV without a wince, standing from the make the shift bedding with a careful stretch. The last few extensions hung ridiculous and lopsided on the back of his head. Tim sensed the dissonance of weight, flitting his fingers to his scalp. He grabbed the small silver scissors from the table, removing the last of the false hair with a few snips, tossing them into the trash.

“So, what’s with the get up?” Jason asked, setting the full kettle on the single burner to heat.

“I had to replicate the type that were being abducted. Recently relocated, alone, no connections. I moved into one of the Bowery hostiles three weeks ago. Got myself noticed. Said the right things to the right people.”

“You dangled yourself like a carrot before a horse and got yourself abducted? Why not pose as a buyer, there’d be less risk.”

“Buyers are only allowed at the auction venue and at the warehouse for pick up, I couldn’t guarantee enough access to the victims. Once I was on the inside, I was able to record through the contact lenses, get the faces of the buyers and some of the grunts working the circuit. After that I just picked the locks on the cages and got the others out.”

“And got the shit beat out of ya,” Jason smirked, pouring hot water over the tea bags to steep.

“I got caught getting the last girl out. Cracked me against the head, and I don’t remember anything after that.”

“What happened was Barbara and I saved your ass. You're welcome, by the way.”

“I’m very grateful,” Tim admitted freely. “Saves me a lot of trouble with Bruce.”

“Is this your rebellious streak?” Jason asked, pushing one of the mugs towards Tim. “Taking on dangerous missions solo just to what? Prove yourself? Stick it to daddy dearest?”

“Why does it have to be either of those things?” Tim retorted, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic. “Are you the only one whose modus operandi is to look after the regular guys and not just take down Gotham’s special breed of psychos?”

“Yeah about that, a trafficking ring in my side of town seems like it should be somethin’ I take care of.”

Tim raised his cup to his lips, peering at Jason sharply over the rim. “You aren’t exactly the type they were looking for.”

“Well forgive me,” Jason sighed with a sarcastic eyeroll, “we can’t all look as…abductable, as you.”

“What can I say, it’s a gift.”

Jason snorted, taking a drink for his own cup. They sat in silence, nursing their drinks until they reached the pale brown dregs at the bottom. “You gonna go back home looking like that?”

“I have a cache not too far from here,” Tim shrugged.

“Barefoot in broad daylight with a blood-stained shirt, that won’t draw any negative attention.” Jason went into the lone bedroom, pulled a black v-neck from a drawer and located a pair of sneakers Roy had left there. “These will be too big, but it should serve well enough.”

“Thanks,” Tim mumbled, discarding the ruined button up, and pulling the t-shirt over his head, his bruised torso not looking any better in the daylight. “I should get out of your hair.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“The tea was appreciated,” Tim said, slipping his feet into the shoes. “And so was the help. I guess I owe you a favor.”

Jason leaned against the counter. “I guess you do.”

“Let me know when you want to cash in?”

“I know where to find you if I’m desperate, Drake.”

Tim shuffled awkwardly in the too large pair of shoes, the shirt hanging baggy around his leaner frame. He unhooked the many locks on the door, Jason following a few paces behind to relock it after him. “I’ll see you around, Jason.” Tim gave a weak wave of his fingers, and slipped the door closed. He could hear the click and slid of the locks as Jason fitted them back into place, and he started his venture back to his own lodgings, feeling as though he was participating in a very unusual ‘Walk of shame.’

After what felt like the greatest shower of Tim’s life, he redressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and dropped himself in front of his computer. He opened the case file and started working on his final report. His typing slowed as he reached the final stretch of events, watching the cursor blink as he struggled to put a clear picture together. With a sigh, be pulled up the footage from the video camera contact lenses, queuing it the moment he started unlocking the final cage.

He saw his own hands pull the chain away, opening the gate and instructing the girl where to run, her feeble words falling away as she hobbled down the passage. The video went out, flashing as he blinked rapidly, the sound crackled with a high-pitched whine before fizzling out into nothing. Tim dipped in out of if conscienceness, the picture switching for long spells of darkness to flickers of light. Jason’s red helmet appeared briefly, half the picture missing completely as one of the lenses had stopped transmitting.

Tim opened the report again, formulating how to complete it with incomplete data. With a resigned huff he pulled out his phone, typing out a message for Jason.

_Your helmet records video and sound, right?_

_It does._

_Can I get a copy of the file from last night? I need to finish my report._

_And I have some blanks to fill in._

_You’re the computer nerd. If you can find it, it’s yours._

_Thank you._

Tim went through Oracles back channels, hacking into the server Jason used to store the feeds from his helmet. Tim downloaded the video and audio files from the night of his rescue, pulling the feed to play alongside his own. He synched the time stamps, slipped on his headphones and pushed play.

He could make out the pair of goons arguing, and the film blurred as Jason crashed down from his vantage point. Tim jumped at the gunfire, looking away from the first-person view of the weapon going off. Seeing himself near catatonic strapped to the chair was unsettling, Jason’s view was not as dissociative as standard security footage, and even he had to admit he looked as good as gone through the view of the helmet.

_“Hey, hey hey hey, Red, open your eyes. Come on. That’s it, come Pretty Bird, let me see those eyes.”_

Tim paused the recording, bringing up the soundtrack on its own. He fiddled with the levels, trying to eliminate the sound caused by Jason’s heavy breathing. He took it back eight seconds and started playing it again.

 _“Hey, hey hey hey, Red, open your eyes. Come on. That’s it, come Pretty Bird, let me see those eyes. Shit_. _What did they give you?”_

The footage shook as Jason moved. “ _What did you give him!_ _I swear to god if you don’t tell me what you gave him right now, I will blow your fucking brains out.”_

The video tilted abruptly with a nauseating sway but continued to record as it was set on the ground, only catching snippets of Jason and Tim’s movements as the hovered sideways, mostly out of frame.

_“Hold on Tim, sorry about this. That’s it. Good job Pretty Bird. I’m going to get you out of here.”_

Tim bit hard on his lower lip, rewinding five more seconds, pushing the volume up before hitting play.

“ _Good job Pretty Bird. I’m going to get you out of here.”_

_“Good job Pretty Bird. I’m going to get you-“_

_“Job Pretty Bird. I’m goin-.”_

_“Pretty Bird. I’m-“_

_“Pretty Bird-“_

Tim synched the footage with his own. With a few swift clicks he archived it and put it into an encrypted file deep within sub folders along with his finalized report, where only Barbra would be able to find it if she looked very, very hard. He set the headphones down with shaking hands, pushing his hair back and pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead.

Since when had Jason swapped out Prissy Bird for Pretty Bird? 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! Comments and kudos fuel my creative fire, or at the very least they motivate me to write even when the muses aren't smiling down. Stay safe everyone!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim slowly rolled up, his spine straightening inch by inch when his head shot up with a sudden snap as he sprang forward, hurling himself on top of Jason. The staff was stretched between his hands as he forced it down onto his prey's throat, his face hovering just above Jason’s, his hair falling around them. Jason stared panicked into the hard-blue abyss of Tim’s eyes, no flicker of realization to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muses were smiling this week, so I bring an update much quicker than usual. This story is not Beta'd. Thank you for the continued support! Every comment and Kudo makes my day.

Twisting up smokes, I'm in control  
Til the fire burns out my miniature vacation  
But I'm always left with the taste in my mouth  
I will do better in the morning  
  


Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

  
  


The explosion from Arkham’s research facility lit up the sky twenty minutes ago, and interrupted what had been a couple weeks of quiet patrolling. Oracle sent out the all call, rerouting everyone to the needed locations. The blast, while mostly contained, knock out a section of the lower containment block, resulting in four escapees.

Batman and Robin pursued Ivy as she fled towards Robinson park, Batgirl took on Riddler in the Upper East side, Hood was on route to the Mad Hatter in Burnley, while Black Bat and Red Robin teamed up against Victor Zsasz on Trigate Bridge.

“Two against one’s not a fair fight,” Victor grinned, looking between them with raised fists.

“Didn’t think fair interested you,” Tim said.

“It does when I’m the one out numbered, with no pretty blades to lodge between your eyes.”

“Feel free to submit a complaint with my boss.” Tim advanced, striking low against Victor’s legs, while Cass launched herself into the air, locking her legs around his neck and flipping him to the ground. Tim rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding Cass who Victor dislodged and tossed aside. She skidded, rolling onto her front and both she a Tim hopped back to their feet as Victor charged again.

Cass leap frogged over him, lodging a batarang into his back and she tumbled through the air. Victor made a mad swing for her, snarling as he yanked the sharp metal from his skin and threw over into the water. Tim used this distraction to swing a bola, whipping it around the mans thick middle with a hard toss, sending an electric shock through him when the wires crossed and completed the circuit.

Victor staggered sideways, his muscles spasming from the voltage. Cass landed solid kick between his shoulder blades, bringing him down fully in the coarse asphalt. Tim extended is bo, digging it in the taught flesh of Victor’s neck.

“That’s enough Victor.”

He looked up at Tim, his eyes narrow, but he bore his teeth with a wide snarl, half of his mouth rubbing hard into the steet as he talked. “We’ll dance just you and me next time birdie, and I’ll make it last. I’ve got a blank spot on my hip saved special for your tally mark.”

Cass locked restraints tightly around his wrists and ankles and Tim collpased his staff, tucking it away.

“O, Zsasz is restrained.”

“ _Copy that Red_. _BG has Riddler, she’s just waiting on pick up. B and Robin are still in pursuit of Ivy. I haven’t heard from Hood_.”

“We’re closer to Burnley,” Tim said looking over to Cass who had shoved a wad of Victor’s shirt into his mouth to keep him quiet. “We can back him up.”

“Go,” Cass said, looming over their captive. “I stay.”

Tim nodded, sidling on to Red Bird and peeling down the length of the bridge and taking the left road passed the Asylum and in to Burnley. Jason had chased Jervis Tetch into one of the buildings partially destroyed by a Firefly rampage. Still standing, but with the scorch marks and the smell of smoke it was rendered unsuitable for any proper use.

“Hood, do you copy?” Tim paused, waiting for a response but received none.

Moving away from his bike he located a side door and silently ducked into the building, birdarangs in each hand. He crept along the outer walls, keeping in the partial shadows as much as he could. The wiring in the building was faulty, only a few of the overhead work lights were on, and the ones that were flicked on and off halfheartedly.

The doorway that lead into the back warehouse was splintering and damaged by heat and smoke, the door hung off helpless on one hinge, useless and battered. Tim stepped past the mountains of debris, finally spotting Jason across the other side of the room, his back to him, both guns a loft.

“Hood,” Tim called, moving forward.

Jason didn’t show any sign of hearing, but he continued to circle slowly to his right. When Tim finally came into his view, he gave a startled jolt, pulling the guns back and removing his fingers from the triggers.

“Hood what-“

“Red!” Jason yelled bringing his guns up again and running forward.

A weight slammed into Tim’s back, knocking his weapons from his grip. Hatter ripped Tim's cowl down locking his arm tight against his windpipe. He pressed his mouth against Tim’s ear, his sour breath hot and wretched against Tim's skin, his too large front teeth grazing the delicate cartilage.

“ _Little Red Robin has gotten older and bolder, but now you’ll be my personal soldier_.”

He released Tim from his grip but kept him in front as a shield from Jason. Tim stared blankly ahead, his blue eyes flat and devoid of recognition.

Hatter smiled wickedly, snapping his fingers. “Kill him.”

Tim threw himself at Jason, swiping the gun from his grip and throwing it to the side. He clamped a hand over Jason’s right wrist and used his free hand to bend Jason’s hand back fast and hard.

Jason groaned sharply as a white-hot pain shot through his arm. He brought his left leg up, laying his shin firm into Tim’s ribs and using that momentum to bring the gun still clutched in his left hand in line to where Hatter had been standing, only to find he was gone. Tim braced his weight against Jason’s right arm, using it like a bar to swing up and kick the other gun away.

“Back up!” Jason barked into his comm. “I need back up.” He forced his knee into Tim’s lower back, pushing him away and rolling back across the floor. “Hatter escaped likely traveling east and-“ Tim slammed the side of Jason's head with his staff, sending his teeth biting down into his lip. “Sonova- and Red’s-“ Tim smacked his hand on the top of the helmet before flipping away, the electrical pulse from the disk frying the system. The emergency releases clicked, the now useless head gear falling away in two pieces.

Jason brought his hands up to guard his face, his knees bent as he rounded on Tim. “I don’t wanna hurt you Timmy. So, now would be a very good time to snap out of it.”

Tim continued to glare with an unfocused haze in his eyes, he raised the Bo in his hands and charged again. Jason danced back on the defensive, blocking and deflecting the blows the best he could, barely able to keep up with Tim’s fast foot work. He ducked beneath a wild swing, landing a sold punch into Tim’s Kidney.

Tim doubled over, a sharp gasp escaping him. Jason dove for his gun, raising it to the ceiling and firing two shots, the loud bangs echoing through the rafters. Jason sucked in a deep breath, staring at Tim for any change, for any sign the hypnosis was broken.

“Tim?” he asked hesitantly, slipping half a step forward. “You back with me?”

Tim slowly rolled up, his spine straightening inch by inch when his head shot up with a sudden snap as he sprang forward, hurling himself on top of Jason, the gun spinning out of his grip, The staff was stretched between his hands as he forced it down onto his prey's throat, his face hovering just above Jason’s, his hair falling around them. Jason stared panicked into the hard-blue abyss of Tim’s eyes, no flicker of realization to be found. Jason clutched the staff, his right hand pulsing in agony as he pushed back against Tim’s’ seemingly impossible strength.

“Tim please,” Jason gasped, “it’s me. It’s Jason, you don’t wanna do this. This isn't you.” Jason kicked his legs franticly, working to dislodge Tim from the pin. He managed to free his right leg, kicking Tim over to shift his weight beneath him, yanking the weapon from Tim’s hands and letting it roll way from them. Locking his legs around Tim’s waist from behind, he pulled his arms across his neck, lifting his elbow to keep pressure on Tim’s carotid.

Tim’s hands shot up, clawing at Jason’s leather clad arm, as he franticly tried to escape, unable to catch his breath.

Batman and Robin burst into the warehouse as Tim went limp, weapons drawn on the two of them. Jason ignored them, turning away from Damian’s snide look of judgment. He pulled Tim’s restraints from his belt, cuffing him before rolling him on to his back and sitting him up, allowing air to flow again, unobstructed.

“Tetch got to him,” Jason wheezed, wiping his brow. “I fired my gun but it didn’t bring him out of it.”

“What did Tetch say?” Bruce growled.

“I don’t know, I had the white noise on in my helmet so he couldn’t get to me with that kind of mumbo jumbo. He didn’t use any device, just said something to him. He snapped his fingers and gave a kill order, I understood that part easy.”

Bruce nodded, turning to Damian. “Robin, join Batgirl and Black Bat on the search for Tetch. Be sure your protective ear wear is secure.”

Damian retreated in a flurry of his cape without a word.

Jason reached down to pick up his ruined helmet, hissing as his fingers closed around it.

“Are you hurt?” Bruce asked, looking up from where he was bent over Tim.

Jason shifted the tattered helmet into his left hand, opening and closing the fingers on his right, “I think he broke my wrist.”

Bruce injected Tim with a sedative and lifted him easily into his arms, “Come to the cave with me, A can take a look at it.”

Jason followed Bruce to the Batmobile, jumping slightly as the doors lifted automatically at their approach. Bruce crossed to Tim’s motorcycle first, punching a code into the small panel. It roared to life, rolling away on auto pilot back to the cave. Bruce turned back and looked at Jason expectantly through the whited lenses of the cowl. Jason swallowed, setting his helmet on the floor and lowering himself into the seat. The leather dipped and pinched just as he remembered. The dash was light up and spread before him, the smell of the car completely unchanged from the last time he sat within it, side by side with Bruce as his Robin. Bruce waited until he heard the click of the seat belt before hunching over, placing Tim’s limp form onto his lap. The door closed with a snap, and Jason adjusted his hold, tucking Tim against his shoulder and holding him in place with his left arm, his right hand resting beside him.

“Get some rest Pretty Bird,” Jason whispered, closing his eyes before Bruce even got into his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know now that I am 100% not an action writer. Fight scenes are SO HARD to do, and I have so much respect for those writers who do it so well and make it read so effortlessly, This chapter was very hard for me to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce was sitting at his computer, cowl down, his brow creased as he looked at the scans on the screen. Jason walked over, looking at the two pictures, one time stamped from today, the other from a few years ago. “How was the MRI?” Jason asked.
> 
> “Even sedated he’s lighting up like a Christmas tree. His amygdala is…he’s angry, and he’s in fight mode. But I can’t give him MRI’s every ten minutes to check for changes.”
> 
> “Bring him out, we can try to get through to him.”
> 
> “We don’t know if that will work," Bruce sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I had a time writing this chapter, and I am actually super proud of it and it might be one of my favorites so far. I hope you will let me know what you think.
> 
> Not beta'd.

I'm afraid of who I'd be without you  
I will do better in the morning

Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

“Now hold very still Master Jason.”

Jason held his breath, listening to the high pitched hum and click of the camera . Alfred stepped back from behind the barrier and came to Jason’s side, carefully flipping his hand over, and readjusting the lead covering over his torso.

“Just once more Master Jason.” Alfred went back to the control booth and took one last x-ray, coming back to move the camera out of the way and assist Jason into a sitting position. “I’ll have them up on the screen in just a moment. Why don’t you go change into some basics? Everything is by the showers, you remember.”

“Yeah Alf. Thanks.” Jason slid off the table and out of the secluded med unit. Bruce was sitting at his computer, cowl down, his brow creased as he looked at the scans on the screen. Jason walked over, looking at the two pictures, one time stamped from today, the other from a few years ago. “How was the MRI?” Jason asked.

“Even sedated he’s lighting up like a Christmas tree. His amygdala is…he’s angry, and he’s in fight mode. But I can’t give him MRI’s every ten minutes to check for changes.”

“Bring him out, we can try to get through to him.”

“We don’t know if that will work," Bruce sighed, swiveling his chair slightly to look at Jason. "How’s your wrist?”

“Alfred’s just finished with the x-rays.”

Bruce closed out of the files, pulling up a map of Gotham, three blinking lights flashing on the grid, purple, yellow, and green. “I need to call Dick, excuse me.” Bruce moved away to take the call and Jason went on to change.

Unclipping and removing his clothing and armor took more time without the use of both hands, but he managed to slip into the non-constrictive cotton clothes, the clean scent of Alfred’s preferred detergent and softener a small comfort in his sudden vulnerable state.

When he retuned to medical Alfred had the x-rays of Jason’s wrist on the viewing monitor.

“How’s the outlook Doc. Sprained or broken?”

“You do appear to have a small fracture on your radius, Master Jason. I would recommend a brace in lieu of plaster casting as long as you promise to wear it diligently while it heals.”

“Scouts honor, Alfred.”

“Yes, and what a scout you would have been. Take a seat.”

Jason hoped back onto the bench, holding his arm out as Alfred wiped his hand and wrist carefully with an antibacterial towelette. Alfred slipped the black brace over his hand and thumb, securing it with Velcro and elastic.

“Take these,” Alfred said presenting a small white cup. Jason tossed the pills, accepting the water cup Alfred provided next. He held a small bottle out, before dropping in into Jason’s hand. “Two pills at a time, up to three times a day for pain.”

“Alfred,” Bruce said, popping his head into the room. “Let’s wake Tim up.”

“Yes sir,” Alfred replied smartly following Bruce to the containment unit Tim was housed in. Jason trailed after Alfred, his right arms swing strangely at the new weight.

Tim had been stripped of his uniform, and he lay across the metal table in his underlayer of black compression shorts and tank. He looked scrawnier than Jason thought he would be, and he could see his many scars standing stark against his pale skin, even under the bright lights.

Alfred slipped into a medical gown and gloves, entering through the first set of doors, punching in the security code for the second set of doors. Alfred disconnected the slow dripping sedative and pulled out a bottle and a syringe. He knocked the air out before slipping it into the catheter and pushing down on the plunger. With the used needle in one hand and the rolling IV pole in the other he left, disposing the debris in the biohazard bin.

Alfred checked his watch. “The ridilin injection should wake him up momentarily and we will be able to see what kind of state he is in.”

“Dick has just gotten off duty, " Bruce said slowly, "he’s joining the others. They still haven’t found Tetch but Barbara is combing though surveillance, hopefully she finds something soon.”

Tim started to stir, his limbs twitching with awareness. Jason stepped forward, between Alfred and Bruce so that his chest nearly touched the reinforced glass.

With a stealthy dexterity Tim rolled off the slab, pushing off the ground from all fours and punching the glass barrier at the level of Jason’s chin. He snarled at the lack of contact, ignoring whatever pain his knuckles were feeling. He leaned into the glass, banging and kicking against it to get to Jason, mindless in his pursuit.

“Computer,” Bruce commanded loudly, “play audio file HQ0415.”

There was a loud crackle as sound flooded the cave. Static flickered, and Jason could make out the low sound of high pitched singing.

Jason frowned. Listening hard. “What the…”

_…gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…_

“Bruce what the hell?” He scowled, rounding on him. “Is that Harley?!”

_…turns brass, Momma’s gonna buy you a looking glass…_

Bruce ignored Jason, continuing to watch Tim beat the glass and pace like a wild animal.

“Bruce!”

“Pause recording." Bruce pulled his cowl up. "I’m going out with the others, call me if anything changes.”

“Care to explain yourself?” Jason stalked after him.

“We need Tetch.”

“Not what I meant," Jason hissed. "Why the hell do you have that recorded?”

“We keep everything we can in the database-“

“Bruce.”

“Look at Tim." Bruce pointed sharply at him. "That didn’t register with him at all. There isn’t anything we will be able to do without catching Tetch. And I don’t need to justify to you what we keep on file or how we decide to use it.”

Jason balked. “Fine. That’s’ fine, but you know what? Get Barabra to take me off her call list, you obviously don’t need _me_ getting in the way of all you _we_.”

“Jason-“

“Go! Before Tim breaks himself.”

Bruce didn’t say anything else, he cimbed into the car with a tight frown and headed off to join the others in the mad dash for Hatter.

Jason stomped up the stairway into the main house, throwing the clock back with an angry grunt. His feet carried him to the library, desperate for a distraction from the fury that bubbled in the pit of his stomach. No one pushed his buttons like Bruce did, who masqueraded his mission for justice as fatherly devotion as often as he could.

Nothing in the library had changed, and Jason’s fingers dragged along the spines of the books with a reverent ease, slipping a familiar title into his hand and reclining in the desk chair. He flipped through the introduction and dove into the book.

_…As for the boy himself, he was terribly afraid. He could not understand what was happening to him or what he had done. How could he know that his father had taken a hand in killing a daughter of Umuofia? All he knew was that a few men had arrived at their house, conversing with his father in low tones, and in the end he had been taken out and handed over to a stranger. His mother had wept bitterly, but he had been too surprised to weep. And so the stranger had brought him, and a girl, a long, long way from home, through lonely forest paths. He did not know who the girl was, and he never saw her again._

Jason sighed, reaching up to rub his tired eyes as he finished chapter two. He closed the book, glancing at the desk and its scattered contents. The stack of black binders in the corner were riddled with colored tabs, each labeled with a project number. He flipped open the manilla folder in the middle of the desk, skimming through the top paper with mild disinterest, until he read the fourth paragraph down.

Jason grabbed the file, slipping it between the pages of his book and returning to the cave. Tim was crouched in the corner of the cell, and he straight up at the sight of Jason, running up the glass to meet him, his fine features contorted with malice.

Jason punched the button on the intercom, staring Tim down. “Miss me?”

Tim huffed, his eyes darting from Jason to different parts of the enclosure, looking for a way out. He was starting look pale, his brow beading with perspiration and his knuckles bleeding and swelling.

“You recognize this?” Jason asked, pushing the file against the glass. “Were you ever gonna tell me that your outreach program was funding a new community center? Or ask me if I was okay with your _Jason Todd Memorial Library_.”

Tim banged his forearm on the wall, peering around the paper to watch Jason.

“And I can’t even fight with you over it because you’re not even you right now!" Jason threw the file to the side, the papers scattering. “You accuse me of not knowing how to communicate and you’re the one who goes behind everyone’s back to do whatever you want, just because you think you know what’s best all the time, and you don’t! What were you thinking tonight? Why weren’t you wearing earplugs under your cowl?” Jason gave a frustrated kick, turning his back and sliding down the wall.

Tim continued to fight with the barrier, wearing circles in the ground with his frantic strides. Jason opened his book again, resuming where he left off with an irritated frown. “Did you read this in school?” Jason asked aloud a few pages in, tilting his head back. “It was on one of Dick’s old high school reading lists. I read the whole list in a month, I thought…I don’t know, I thought it would impress Bruce. Make him think I was smart enough or good enough to keep around. This is the book that stood out the most. Culture clash. Prodigal son. What comes from forced masculinity and the fear of softness. I read it twice, I didn’t like it the first time.” He tucked the book into his lap, running a ragged hand through his hair. “Are you as tired as I am yet?”

Jason glanced up, Tim looming above him still like a shadow.

“I guess not,” Jason chuckled, slouching further down. He hummed gently, a tune reverberating low in his throat, before the words bubbled up rough and uncertain. “ _Kookaburra sits in the old Gum Tree. Eating all the gum drops he can see. Stop, Kookaburra stop. Kookaburra, leave some there for me_.” The muffled thump turned him back around. Tim was on the ground, level with Jason, his face drawn, his head resting against the glass. “Finally worn out, Tim?” Jason asked, leaning closer to speaker box. _“Laugh, kookaburra laugh. Kookaburra gay your life must be._ ”

“Master Jason?”

Jason jumped, rising to his feet as Alfred approached, Barbara by his side.

“You got Tetch?” he asked.

Barbara nodded as the deep roar of the Batmobile filled the cavern, the vehicle skidding into place with the sound of multiple motorbikes echoing behind it. Cass, Stephanie, Damian, and Dick dismounted while Bruce prowled towards Tim. He pulled out a recorder, holding it to the intercom and pressing play.

“ _Little Red Robin was a fighter for me, and now with snap I set him free_.” Tetch’s eerie voice slithered out of the device, followed by a sharp snap.

Tim’s eyes widened painfully, a scream ripping from him as his body went slack, his abused limbs drawing inwards. Bruce dropped the recorder, hurrying to get through the security doors. Tim heaved violently, vomiting down his front, sobs shacking his frame. Bruce swept in, pulling Tim against him, his still gloved hand pressed into his wild hair.

“Jason!” Tim cried, his face buried into Bruce’s large frame. “Jason I’m sorry-God I’m so sorry, Jason…”

The others glanced awkwardly between the two in the cell and Jason, who refused to look at anyone. Alfred stepped forward, muting the sound and fixing them all with a look of neutral primness.

“That’s quite enough for this evening, I suggest you all clean up and get to bed.”

The four moved silently to the showers, leaving Jason alone with Alfred and Barbara.

“You’re welcome to stay Master Jason.”

“I’ll have to pass Alf," Jasin frowned. "Would you mind giving me a ride home Bab’s?”

Barbara nodded, giving Alfred's hand a soft squeeze. “Sure, you’re on my way.”

“Great,” Jason said, and he gathered his belongs up without another word, and left the cave, Barbara following shortly after.

As Barbara drove she focused on the road ahead, the lights flashing over her solemn face as the car dipped in and out of darkness. Jason played with his brace, picking nervously at the elastic with his blunt nails, throwing the occasional glance at Barbara when he though he had the confidence to speak, only to swallow hard and look back away.

“Say what you want to say Jason.”

“It can be anything I want, right?”

Barbara pursed her lips, flicking her eyes to Jason, taking in his terse expression. “If it doesn’t conflict with my moral leanings and it is within my power to do so, yes, it can be anything you want.”

Jason nodded, biting softly on the inside of his cheek as he finalized his decision. “I want you to delete file HQ0415 from Bruce’s database. Every copy. Original. Duplicates. If it’s in his backup systems or other hard drives. I want it gone.”

“Done.”

Jason looked are, searching her face for any indication of what she was thinking. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“You’re not even gonna ask what the file is? Or why?”

Barbra shrugged, slowing the vehicle as she approached his apartment. “You wouldn’t waste a favor from me on something trivial.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book excerpt is From chapter two of "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe, published 1958. Thank you for taking the time to read. Each hit the story gets brings me a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a grimace Jason flexed his newly healed wrist, hesitantly bringing his hand up to open Oracle’s private channel on his comm. He hadn’t been in contact with any of the others since the Hatter incident. Barbara had messaged him less than an hour after dropping him back at his apartment, letting him know that she had completed his request. He didn’t respond. Instead he turned his phone off for almost a week, altered the pattern of his patrol route, and steered clear of his apartment, relocating instead to a safe house on the opposite side of town. When he did turn his phone back on, he had a missed call from Roy, and a couple texts from him and Kori. But it was the notification from Tim that sent his heart down into his gut. And he spent an hour pacing and avoiding his phone before he finally opened it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters have been added and were not a part of the original plot layout, but I felt like I couldn't just leave the previous incident alone, so you are getting a little more time for it to resolve, and then we will move on to the last bit of this part of the series. Huge thanks to all the people reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, and commenting. Lighting up my life with joy in these unusual times.

I only do what I have done  
I will do better in the morning

Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

Jason peered over the roofs edge, counting the number of expensive cars that were parked along the streets and alleys. What he thought was a small gathering of Maroni’s men to discuss an incoming weapons shipment now looked like a massive family reunion. Jason turned over, sitting on the roof with his back pressed against the cinderblocks. A few choice swear words slipped from his lips as he was running a mental breakdown of the armory he had on his person, certain he was not efficiently equipped by a long shot.

With a grimace Jason flexed his newly healed wrist, hesitantly bringing his hand up to open Oracle’s private channel on his comm. He hadn’t been in contact with any of the others since the Hatter incident. Barbara had messaged him less than an hour after dropping him back at his apartment, letting him know that she had completed his request to delete Harley's audio file, but he hadn't sent her a response. Instead he turned his phone off for almost a week, altered the pattern of his patrol route, and steered clear of his apartment, relocating instead to a safe house in the Bowery. When he eventually did turn his phone back on out of necessity, he had a missed call from Roy, and had several texts from both him and Kori, with varying levels of concern over his sudden radio silence. But it was the notification from Tim that sent his heart down into his gut. And he spent an hour pacing and avoiding his phone before he finally snapped and opened it.

_Can we please talk?_

Jason never replied to that either. He deleted the text and pushed it from his mind, and assumed Tim must have taken the hint because he hadn't made another attempt to contact him, text or otherwise. Somehow that had made Jason feel worse, because a week later he started at least four texts to Tim before deleting them with a groan. He hadn’t ricocheted between frustration and guilt like this since he had detoxed from the pit, and with several extra packs of cigarettes' smoked through this month his nerves weren't any more settled than they had been when he had left a crying Tim in the Batcave, screaming out his name.

With a deep breath he plucked up his courage and clicked in, the line opening with a soft and familiar crackle.

“Hey Oracle," Jason greeted, keeping his tone level and professional, "do you have eyes at Adrian Street and Fisher Street?”

_“She does not, but I do.”_

Jason's throat bobbed as he tried to swallow past the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Ti-Red?”

_“Hood,”_ Tim's voice greeted back clear and unmistakable.

“What are you…where’s O?”

_“Policeman’s Ball,”_ he clipped matter of fact, the answer ready on his tongue.

Jason’s fingers played with the scattered pebbling on the roof, attempting to keep his tone light, “So, you’re filling in?”

_“Do you know anyone else with the technical know-how to dare fill her shoes?”_

Jason gave a tiny chuckle, hearing the smile in Tim’s voice, “If that’s your way of askin’ if you’re the biggest computer nerd I know the answer is yes.”

_“Keep sweet talking me, and I’ll stay in your ear all night,”_ Tim replied smoothly, his voice low in the hollow of Jason's ear, as if he stood just behind him in the dark.

Jason caught his bottom lip between his teeth, tampering down the sound that threatened to escape his throat. There was something in Tim’s tone, a bite that Jason was familiar with but something else seeped in, an undercurrent of unknown. He could feel his lips curving in an unintended smirk, the double entendre not even close to subtle. “You couldn’t handle a whole night with me, Birdie.”

_“Baiting me Hood?”_ Tim asked.

“Just tellin’ ya the truth.”

_“Your opinion,”_ Tim shot back. _“You’re underestimating my skill set.”_

Jason scoffed comically, “I have a pretty good idea of what you’re capable of.”

_“You have no idea, Hood,”_ Tim assured, his voice soft and gravely.

“Alright,” Jason said, rolling to his knees and looking back at his target, “put up or shut up.”

_“Four guards in the first-floor entry. Two at the front, two at the stairwell. Service elevator is out of order. Two more outside the second-floor stairwell. Two more at the third. The main gathering is on the third floor. Thirty-two Maroni strong. Would you like the list of attendees alphabetically or by rank?”_

“No need to be cheeky. You got ears on them?”

Tim clicked rapidly, huffing as his fingers slowed _, “Not inside the building. I can get you everything from before they stepped over the threshold.”_

“Oh, you can’t give me an in-time relay?” Jason goaded.

_“Now who’s cheeky?”_

“Still you,” Jason replied quickly, shuffling on his knees to the far end of the roof top.

_“If you can get a bug into the ventilation system, I can have every second of the gathering sent to you in a PDF before you even get home.”_

Jason sat back on his heels, looking through his pouch of devices for a long range transmitter. “Why should I read it later when I could hear it firsthand on the inside?”

Tim’s voice hitched up, incredulous and disparaging _. “If you want stake out inside a building wagering your four guns against… seventy-seven of theirs, be my guest.”_

“You aren’t going to stop me?” Jason taunted.

_“How would I do that?”_

Jason scanned the dark skyline, looking for the cameras Tim could be hacked into, “You don’t have some drone ready to shoot me with a tranq?”

_“As if I would waste drone technology on you.”_

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings," Jason accused, pulling out the bug and securing it in his jacket pocket.

Tim gasped, and Jason could picture him clutching mock pearls like a high society dame. _“So, you admit you have them?”_

“If I want to enter the building,” Jason muttered, steering the conversation back on point, “where should I enter from.”

_“They have a monitoring system on the roof, so the typical aerial approach is off limits, too many Bat infiltrations in the past. But…there is a broken window on the 4 th floor, east side of the building.”_

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Jason mumbled, standing up and slipping his grapple into his hand. He swung two roofs over, scanning for the broken window. “Can you see me?” Jason asked suddenly.

_“Of course I can,”_ Tim replied smugly,

The words, Jason knew, were probably accompanied with an exaggerated eyeroll. Tim was fond of putting on countenances to hide what he was really thinking or feeling; the shallow façade of CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne came to mind, to busy to be put upon by questioning journalists and reporters, to brilliant to waste time with people who wouldn't _understand_. Which was ridiculous, because Jason had seen Tim explaining patiently how his staff worked to Dick when a thug had gotten a hold of it during a massive territory war they had all been sent in on to clear up, and it had collapsed at the strangers touch. And Jason had heard Tim giving directions to lost, confused old ladies and helping kids get home after dark, when he scanned through the channels on slow nights, to know that Tim didn't believe in stupid questions and obvious answers, and he was just being a smart ass because he could, because he wanted to, and Jason wasn't above playing one right back.

“Good.” Jason raised his middle finger up, bringing it around in a full circle so Tim couldn't possibly miss it.

_“You’re a child.”_ Tim hissed.

“Could a child do this?” Jason asked breaking into a run. He launched off the roof’s ledge, tucking into a front flip, his feet hitting the windowsill with a controlled arch. He braced his gloved hands hard against the inner casing, looking over his shoulder.

_“N would have done that as a toddler,”_ Tim dismissed. _“And he would have done it better.”_

“How dare you.”

_“Watch your hips,”_ he chided sweetly.

“You watch your hips,” Jason grumbled back.

_“I have enough eyes on my hips, thank you very much,”_ Tim chirped.

“I-what?”

_“Get in the building, someone’s coming down the alley.”_

Jason pushed the window up, sliding quietly down on to the dingy carpet. The fourth floor was dark, and with a quick scan of the room, his night vision mode verified it was vacant.

_“Go to the west wall, approximately twelve feet from the door, take up the carpeting, there’s an old vent in the floor.”_

Jason spotted the door, counting out the paces and crossing to the wall. He pulled out his knife, notching it against the base board and started tugging up the carpet. The vent appeared as Tim had promised, small and stiff from disuse. The slats wouldn’t budge wide enough to slip his guide wire down. Using the tip of the blade, he loosened the screws, wriggling the top off and setting it aside.

“Not too bad Red,” Jason smiled, pulling out the small mic. He made sure it was turned on and attached to the end of his extendable wire lead.

_“Guide it six feet, that will put the bug within range.”_

Jason hooked it onto the vent, drawing the guide back up. “And done. You picking up what they’re putting down?”

_“Clear as crystal,”_ Tim sighed, the sound of rustling flitting under his voice, _“ Looks like you get an early night.”_

Jason sauntered back to the window, slipping half out of it, his legs dangling over the edge. “Whatever will I do with myself,” he pondered.

_“I’ll send you the minutes when they’re done,”_ Tim advised quickly. _“Over and out.”_

“Red-“ Jason started, but Tim was already disconnected, the comm silent in Jason’s ear. He sat in the dark, perplexed and breathless, too aware of the off-kilter sensation rippling through him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe and healthy everyone, if you have the time please let me know what you think. Thank you for reading! Hopefully I'll have the next update soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I shouldn’t have left,” Jason confessed. “You were…I shouldn’t have left the cave that night, and then gone dark on you the way I did.”  
> “I broke your wrist.”  
> “You didn’t-“  
> “I broke your wrist,” Tim stood up vehemently, “and I tried very hard to kill you. I wanted to kill you, you had no reason to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweet people! Not Beta'd and here for your viewing pleasure. Thank you for all the love I have received. I hope you are all staying sane and healthy.

Afraid of what I might become  
I will do better in the morning

Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

Tim leaned back, his spine popping as it curved against the tilting leather of the chair. The clock tower was high enough that the regular sound of Gotham drifted quietly through the openings with an ambient hum, joining the electric buzz of Barbara’s system. It was soothing, the constant white noise putting his mind to ease even through the less than relaxing circumstances.

The familiar sound of metal clamping against stone cut suddenly above the other noise, bringing Tim out of his momentary reflection. Tim fell back forward, turning towards the northern clock face, to see Jason standing amongst the steel gear work.

Tim swiveled his chair to face him, dropping his features into a practiced look of passive neutrality. “There’s an actual entrance, you know.”

Jason jumped from the ledge, striding into the main hub. “That’s not really my style.”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to cramp your style,” Tim glanced at the screens, checking for any immediate needs before rising from his seat, looking Jason up and down for any defects. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s fine,” Jason shrugged. “Nothing that keeps our kind down for very long.”

“That’s good.”

“You good?” Jason asked.

“I’m fine,” Tim uttered too quickly. “I wasn’t…my hands are fine.” He held up his digits and gave them a little wiggle, the flesh healed, tinged a barely there pink.

Jason nodded, his weight dancing awkwardly between his feet. “I brought tacos,” he finally blurted out, lifting the plastic bag meekly.

Tim stilled, his eyes widening, “What?”

“I thought…” Jason trailed off, his free fingers flitting through his fringe. “Well post patrol meals are usually a must. And I figured since you were stuck here you might be hungry.”

“You…brought me tacos?” Tim reiterated, trying to wrap his mind around the notion.

“Do you want them or not?”

“Yeah,” Tim jerked his head in an uncoordinated nod. “Yeah I want them, I’m starving.”

Tim pulled out the letter writing slab from the old desk and Jason dragged over an extra chair, dropping the bag on the small square of wood with a careless ease. He slipped out two foil packs, setting one in front of Tim before pulling out ramekins of salsa and a baggy of limes.

Tim watched as Jason pulled the foil back and started meticulously dressing his tacos, evenly spreading the two different salsas over the finely chopped cilantro and onion. He squeezed the limes along the top, slipping one between his teeth and biting down, the sliver of green peaking between his lips, the hit of citrus misting over the scent of leather and bay water Jason had brought in with him. Tim could feel the corners of us mouth turning up, something about Jason’s habit churning a warm sensation in his stomach that was not related to his hunger. He lifted a taco to his own mouth, leaning forward as far as he dared in the small shared space, worried he would somehow spook Jason if he got too close.

“These are really good,” Tim muttered after swallowing, the tender spice of the carnitas skating across his tongue.

“Hector works my favorite cart. He’s usually at the New Town/Crime Alley border, off the Kane Memorial Bridge.”

Tim nodded, mapping the geography in his head. Jason went past his apartment for tacos, only to double back all the way across town to the Clock Tower. He shoveled done a second taco while his brain fired off possible scenarios for Jason’s actual reason for being here. He had three viable hypotheses by the time they finished eating, and Tim began formulating leading questions as they carefully disposed the remnants back into the bag, wiping town the makeshift table, ensuring no mess was left in Barbara’s space.

The silence was charged, awkward and needing to be filled.

“So-“

“I’m sorry.”

Tim’s mouth slipped opened; the words Jason had spoken not at all what he had expected to hear. “You’re…sorry?”

Jason nodded, his brow creased.

“Jason, what could you possibly have to apologize to me for?”

“I shouldn’t have left,” Jason confessed. “You were…I shouldn’t have left the cave that night, and then gone dark on you the way I did.”

“I broke your wrist.” 

“You didn’t-“

“I broke your wrist,” Tim stood up vehemently, “and I tried very hard to kill you. I wanted to kill you, you had no reason to stay.”

“You cried out for me.”

“I was distraught! After what Tetch made me do. God…Jason. If you could never look at me again, I would have understood.”

“What Tetch made you do was not your fault," Jason argued, throwing the bag forcibly into the waste basket. 

Tim shook his head. “No, you were right. It was my own fault, I didn’t take the necessary precautions, and that could have gotten you killed. I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m the one who owes you an apology. And not just for that.”

Jason balked. “Tim-“

“I was going to talk to you about the Library,” Tim pressed earnestly, “I wanted to get the whole proposal together for you to read, before I even took it to Bruce to look at. But I should have asked you right away, it was stupid, and inappropriate. And I’m so sorry you found out the way you did, I don’t want you to think that Bruce and I are trying to manipulate you, I just-I know you can only be The Red Hood for them, and I wanted to give them something, to give you something good because Jason Todd was good.”

“I wish you didn’t remember any of that,” Jason groaned, “I overreacted.”

“You had every right to.”

“You were just-“ Jason reached out helplessly, his fist closing around air. He dropped his arm quickly and dug both hands into his pockets. “You were just trying to do something nice.”

“It’s not my place to-“

“You’ve been nice to me since September,” Jason stopped him, frowning. “And you’ve treated me with incredible civility before that given our history.”

Tim slumped against the desk, letting out a defeated sigh. Tired of the stress that came from dancing along what ever divide existed between the two of them. “I don’t want us to be enemies Jason.”

“What do you want?”

“You’ll laugh at me,” Tim mumbled staring at the floor, his face flushed pink.

Jason swallowed, feeling heat spreading in his own cheeks. “I’m not going to laugh at you.”

“I thought…” Tim started, digging the toes of his sneaker into the floor, “we’ve been getting on alright, lately. I thought maybe we were becoming friends.”

“You want to be my friend?” Jason asked, his brow shooting up towards his hairline.

Tim gave a strangled scoff, collapsing further in on himself. “You were my favorite Robin. You were _my_ Robin. I used to dream about being friends with you. When my parents would take me to special events, I would hope you would be there with Bruce, and that I would be brave enough to talk to you. And I never was. And then you died. You died and I missed my opportunity to get to know you.”

“And when I came back, I tried to kill you,” Jason added.

Tim offered a restrained smile, meeting Jason’s teal gaze. “Multiple times.”

“And you still want to be my friend.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Tim warned.

“I’m not laughing," Jason pointed out with such sincerity that Tim could feel his knees go weak with it.

“But you think I’m crazy.”

“Prissy Bird.” Jason smiled, “I know you’re crazy. But you ain't any crazier than the rest of us. Not really.”

The nickname sparked a sudden confidence in Tim, remembering the file he had stashed away from his rescue. He pushed off from the desk, crowding Jason's space more than he had ever dared before. “I like you. We work well together. And you’re fun when you’re not being an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole too,” Jason smirked.

“I had to pick something up from my predecessor.”

“Well you didn’t get my skills, my charm, or my good looks, Replacement.”

Tim slipped his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head coyly. “I got better ones.”

“Care to test that theory?” Jason grinned.

“Would you like me to bring up our statistics?” Tim asked, turning towards the computers.

“I was thinking a sparring match,” Jason suggested, closing a hand carefully around Tim’s wrist. “What’s a little hand to hand combat between _friends_?”

“Well, if it’s just between friends,” Tim shifted back towards him. “That doesn’t help decide much with the other two, though.”

“Charm and good looks?”

“Yes.”

“It’s hardly a contest.”

“You would concede so easily?” Tim asked sweetly.

Jason gave a light chuckle, straightening up so he leaned further over Tim, “We could ask anyone around. The Red Hood is far more charming than Red Robin.”

“But not better looking. Why else would you hide under a helmet?”

“Please, you aren’t fooling anyone with your wanna be Dick Grayson haircut.” Jason pushed his fingers good naturedly through the front of Tim’s hair, gently fisting the dark strands at the back of his head.

Tim relaxed into Jason’s grip, tilting his head back pliantly to return his look of playful smugness. “You don’t like it?”

“Well if it’s a choice between you or Dickiebird.”

“I know there’s no competing," Tim admitted quietly. "Dick is nonpareil in almost any category, including looks.”

Jason paused, looking Tim over in the flickering green glow of the clock tower. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

Tim’s lip parted to speak, when the comm in his ear erupted shrilly. With a gasp Tim staggered back, falling out of Jason’s grasp.

_“Red, can you get the location of the Street Demonz, I’ve got a couple of questions for them.”_

“Yes, of course,” Tim said, still a little breathless as he hunched over the key board, his fingers flying across it, his eyes darting over the monitors as he jumped from camera view to camera view. “Bar 18 off Mann and Dodger, BG”

_“Many thanks, how are you holding up?”_

“I’m fine, I got to go though, B is buzzing in,” Tim lied.

_“Okay, love you.”_

“You too, gotta go,” Tim muted his comm hurriedly, dropping his head with a sigh. He took a breath, straightening up to see Jason standing back from where he had entered. “Sorry about that.”

“S’fine. I shouldn’t be bothering ya while you’re working,” he reattached to his line, giving Tim a small two fingered salute. “I’ll catch you around Birdie.”

“Thanks for the Tacos.”

“He does a good deal on Tuesdays, two for a dollar.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there some time,” Tim suggested lightly, “now that I know where to look.”

“Maybe,” Jason said softly, rolling a shoulder back causally, a smile sitting quietly in the corner of his lips as he dropped off the building.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line, let me know what you're thinking. Keep drinking water, get enough sleep. Wash your face, put on deodorant. Whatever you need to do to stay feeling human is these strange an unusual times. Thank you for your continued support. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just think of him as any other resource we’ve used before.”  
> “Are you slipping him thank you twenty’s like you do with the girls?”  
> Jason felt the heat creep around his collar, and he frowned tightly. “I’m not slipping him anything.”  
> Roy chuckled quietly at the surprise innuendo. “I don’t think anyone’s slipped him anything since Stephanie.”  
> Jason almost missed the next step, his stomach swooping abruptly, “What? What do you mean?”  
> “Stephanie and Tim used to date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! Sorry for the long wait in the update, I had a big research paper due for a class and this chapter took a little while longer to put together than I had had planned. I hope you like it! Not Beta'd.

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover  
Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered  
In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom  
You will do better in the morning  
I will do better in the morning

Better in the Morning

By Birdtalker

* * *

“What do you think Jay?”

“Hmm?” Jason looked up, having long dropped out of the conversation. “I uhh, I trust your judgment, whatever you think is best.”

“Okay great, so the plan we go with is mine and we will sell the ship and buy a van with classic shag carpeting and drive around the country solving mysteries instead of fighting crime.”

Jason nodded.

Roy groaned, smacking Jason hard across his knees. “You haven’t been listening to a single word I’ve said Jay, what is your deal?”

“Are you anticipating a communication of some kind?” Kori asked airily. “You have been checking your phone with increasing frequency.”

The phone in question was in Jason’s hand, he had been rolling it over absentmindedly for the last hour and half, looking to see if any new notifications had popped up. Jason shook his head, shoving it into his pocket. “No, I’m not. I’m not checking it I was just-sorry. What were you saying Roy?”

Roy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Look, other than that goopy stuff you found, we don’t have any idea with what we’re dealing with. And since that whole thing with Essence, the lab we have has spotty capabilities at best, at worst, it’s going to blow up in our faces. So, we have three options. We either; forget about the whole thing entirely. Get the repairs. Or find a lab we can run tests. I like option number one, because I’m exhausted and would like another vacation, and we are not the Scooby Gang, we stop trouble, and sometimes we cause trouble, but we don’t solve robberies where there is no proof of a robbery.”

“They’re missin' stuff!”

“Little old ladies get confused.”

“They aren’t confused Roy.”

“This is cop stuff Jay, come on.”

Jason levelled Roy with a glare, “The cops aren’t going to waste their time on them, not any more than filing out a report and letting it gather dust.”

“Then why should we?” Roy asked.

“Because!” Jason shot up, pushing his chair back into a crate of spare parts. “Because they’re ladies in my neighbor hood and I want to help them.”

“Okay,” Roy sighed, giving in to Jason. “So we do this.”

Kori half floated from her own seat, seeming pleased with the agreement. “We are still without means of testing the sample you have acquired.”

“I know a place,” Jason shrugged. “It’ll be a short trip.”

Jason shuffled into the cock pit, imputing the information into the navigation system.

“Kor, would you mind piloting? I’d like to talk to Jay for a few minutes.”

Jason turned to frown at Roy, who stood with his arms folded and his brow pinched. Kori glided into the pilot’s chair without question, her long fingers flitting over the controls.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Jason followed Roy into the main deck, hitting his boots into the floor a little harder than necessary. When Roy stopped, he faced Jason with a look of expectation, his foot tapping slightly as Jason stared back without a word.

“You feeling alright?” Roy finally asked.

“I feel fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah," Jason huffed, “I mean, I’m a little worked up over the case, but I’m fine.”

Roy frowned deeply. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about then. Can we go back?” Jason turned, his feet moving back the way they’d come.

“Jay, wait at minute, hey,” Roy hooked a gentle hand on his sleeve, tugging him back. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothin’.”

Roy loosened his grip but continued to look at him, the worry painted clear across his face. “Seriously. You’ve been off. You can talk to me.”

“I do talk to you,” Jason sighed, meeting Roy’s gaze reluctantly.

“Then tell me why you’ve been glued to your phone lately.”

The vertebrae in Jason’s spine locked ridged as he straightened, warning edging into the low register of his voice. “Roy.”

“You’re gonna stand there and tell me you haven’t?” Roy shot in disbelief. “You’re hand in your pocket right now! Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Jason blushed, pulling his hand back out and folding his arms, picking a spot on the floor to glare at.

“Why are you embarrassed? Did you meet someone?”

“No!”

“So, it’s someone you already know?” Roy suggested coyly.

Jason let out a low groan. “Roy, drop it.”

“Okay,” Roy acquiesced, raising his hands in surrender. “You aren’t ready to talk about it, what ever it is. But I’m…happy for you. You’ve seemed really happy lately, when you aren’t on edge waiting for a text back. So, when you’re ready, when you want to talk about it, I’m here for you. They must be special, to have you all worked up.”

With a mollified chuckle Jason relaxed, dragging a booted foot across the floor. “It really isn’t like that.”

“Maybe not yet,” Roy nudged him playfully.

“Stop it.”

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t give you a hard time over a crush?”

“There is no crush,” Jason said, before smiling wickedly, his tone mocking. “Oh, that must mean no best friend?”

Roy gave him a gentle swat on the arm, “Shut up, you love me.”

“I put up with you with a reasonable amount of affection.”

“I’ll be sure to put that into my future best man speech.”

“You’re garbage,” Jason groaned, heading back to the cockpit. “I’m going to hang out with Kori, at least she’s cool.”

“You’re just trying to hurt me and distance yourself from this emotional bonding moment we’re having!”

“Kori!” Jason shouted, flipping Roy off without turning back to him, “We need to pick up some breakfast burritos on the way. Let me know when we’re twenty minutes out, I’ll place an order.”

Roy laughed at his friends retreating form, kicking a loose bolt across the floor, “I want mine with bacon!” He shouted.

When the ship landed on the helipad on top of Titans Tower, Jason ignored the odd looks he received from both Kori and Roy. He clambered down the gang plank with a confident stride, hoping to give the others no room to feel ill at ease. Tim stood in the roof access entry, rumpled in an oversized t-shirt and compression shorts, his hair moving in the late morning breeze.

“When you told me you were going to cash in that favor I wasn’t exactly expecting the whole crew.”

“But this ride get’s me around so much quicker,” Jason replied smugly. “Where's your little gang? I thought I’d have to fight my way through.”

“As if you could,” Tim smirked, rolling his eyes. “I Silenced the alarm system when I got you on radar. Didn’t want to wake them.”

“What a benevolent over lord you are.”

Tim shook his head, “That’s Cassandra actually. I stepped down from the Lording Over.”

“Since when?”

“A while ago. I have to split too much of my time between here and Gotham. Just made more sense.”

Jason nodded understandingly, taking a quick glance over his shoulder, spotting the others lingering at the ship. “Well we brought a peace offering, to ensure safe passage.”

“Granted,” Tim waved a little uneasily behind Jason. “Hey Roy, Koriand’r. Nice trip?”

Kori flew over, glowing in the bright sun light, “It was most uneventful, and not long. It brings me to joy to see you are prospering well.”

“Thanks,” Tim smiled shyly. “I hope you’re prospering as well?”

“There is better sunshine here than there is in Gotham. I was pleasantly surprised that this is the location Jason has chosen.”

“Surprised being the operative word,” Roy muttered.

“If you guys want to take those to the kitchen, I can get Jason set up. I don’t want to keep you here longer than necessary. Wouldn’t want to hold up your big case.”

Roy frowned, his grip on the bag tightening, “It’s not that big a case.”

“Thanks Tim,” Jason said, pressing his heel onto Roy’s toes, “we really appreciate it.”

Tim nodded, leading the way down the stairs, Kori walking beside him, inquiring politely on the health of his family.

Roy tugged Jason back, so they followed further behind. “You couldn’t warn us about this?” he whispered.

“I didn’t know it would be a problem.”

“I didn’t know you would have us begging favors from a bat.”

“It’s not a…it’s just Tim,” Jason sighed, “And he owed me from a few months back. It’s not like I took us to the Bat Cave and made you crawl hands and knees in front of Dick.”

“That’s not funny,” Roy hissed.

Jason watched Roy from the corner of his eye, “I thought you and Dick were okay.”

“We are okay,” Roy grumbled. “Dick and I don’t have beef like we used to, we’re adult enough, and we’re fine. But I didn’t think you and any Bat were fine. Least of all you and Tim. I covered for you when you had all your ‘not-family family drama’.”

“It’s not like I’m one of their fold. But we share the city, we have run ins, we have overlap, sometimes we have had to work together. Tim has a lab here, he owes me, and his brain is on par with Barbara’s. Just think of him as any other resource we’ve used before.”

“Are you slipping him thank you twenty’s like you do with the girls?”

Jason felt the heat creep around his collar, and he frowned tightly. “I’m not slipping him anything.”

Roy chuckled quietly at the surprise innuendo. “I don’t think anyone’s slipped him anything since Stephanie.”

Jason almost missed the next step, his stomach swooping abruptly, “What? What do you mean?”

“Stephanie and Tim used to date.”

“They did?”

“Yeah, a couple years ago.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well you weren’t exactly hanging around back then,” Roy shrugged. “And it’s not like you and Tim are best buddies.”

“Yeah...” Jason swallowed, letting Roy through the door first, their small group walking past the living area and into the open space of the kitchen.

Bart was sitting at the counter, diving into what must have been his second bowl of cereal with speedy enthusiasm.

“We’ve got guests,” Tim called out, drawing Bart’s attention.

“Hey!” Bart smiled wide, rocketing out of his seat. “Arsenal! Starfire! Hi, welcome! Is this a Team up? Are we teaming up with the Outlaws?!”

“No, no team up,” Tim assured. “Jason needs to borrow the lab, but they have come bearing gifts.”

Bart zeroed in on the bag emitting the savory aroma, “Is there chorizo?”

“Yup!” Roy tossed that bag to the far right, Bart catching it and bringing it back in a blur.

“Thanks man!”

Jason watched Roy and Kori take seats at the counter, “You two okay here?”

“Without question,” Kori smiled, taking the wrapped burrito Bart offered her with a grin.

“Labs down in the underground,” Tim said, leaving the others. He accessed the hidden panel in the wall, punching in the security codes, the lift opening up for them. Tim leaned against the wall, given Jason a look of sleepy appraisal, “How have you been?”

“Pretty good, plenty to do. Kinda missed running into you on the roof tops, though. How much longer are you going to be here?”

“I’ll be back in Gotham in a couple of weeks,” Tim smiled, “My “Business Trip” is almost over.”

“I guess everyone deserves a summer vacation,” Jason gave Tim’s arm a poke, “even you.”

“It’s hardly been a vacation, “ he frowned.

“You can’t deny you’ve vacated.”

“Vacated one place of work for another. You’re the only one I know who goes on actual trips,” Tim slipped his finger around Jason’s belt loop, tugging down, glimpsing the sliver of paler skin beneath the line of golden tan. “Where were you last? Mexico? The Bahamas?”

“Porto Alegre.”

“How’s your Portuguese?”

“Aceitavel.”

“Tente mais.”

Jason laughed, shuffling a little closer, “Now I know where to get a tutor.”

“You’ve already cashed in your favor,” Tim teased.

“It wouldn’t be a favor! Just a little help from a friend.”

Tim straightened as the elevator slowed, and the door slid open, “I’m sorry, for not being super responsive to you lately.”

Jason waved him off, “It’s not a big deal, I know how busy you are.”

“It’s not that I don’t have time.” Tim assured him, placing his hand against the scanner to read his print, “I have a hard time getting privacy around here. That’s all.”

“No explanation necessary. You got back to me for this, we’re cool.”

“Well,” Tim smiled, stepping across the threshold and dropping into a dramatic German accent. “Velcome to my Labor-atory.”

“Nerd,” Jason chocked.

“Put one on,” Tim instructed, slipping on a white lab coat and a set of goggles.

“Seriously?”

“Safety protocol.”

“We aren’t handling dangerous chemicals.”

“You have no idea what we’re handling,” Tim returned smartly, “Put them on.”

“Fine,” Jason conceded, fitting his arms through the starched sleeves.

Tim began arranging equipment on the workstation, slipping on a pair of protective gloves. “Sample?”

Jason pulled on the plastic evidence bag, handing it over, before leaning out of the way against the sink.

Tim audibly scoffed, taking it from Jason’s grasp, “We’ll at least we know it’s not corrosive.” Tim took a swab of the sample, snipping it in to test tubes. “This will process the compounds, see if anything comes up in the database,“ He explained capping the white machine that resembled a coffee maker, and initiating the sequence. He took the remaining sample and pressed it between the glass slides, slipping it under the microscope. He slid his protective eye on top his head, bending down to examine the substance, carefully adjusting the focus, watching as the cells of the material expanded and contracted.

Jason moved away from the counter, standing behind Tim as he hmmed and hummed. His eyes caught a little hole in the collar of the shirt, where Tim’s skin peaked through the dark fabric. The tag had been removed in haste, Jason knew, because he had done it himself. The shirt Tim had gone to bed in was the same that Jason had sent him home in after the human trafficking incident. He resisted the urge to swallow the sudden tightness in his throat when Tim straightened up suddenly, stepping back from the scope, “Jay-.” He halted; his back pressed against Jason’s chest.

“I-“

“Sorry,” Tim, breathed, stepping out of his way. “Take a look.”

Jason hunched over, Tim sliding beside him. “That’s weird…it…almost disappears?”

“Right? It compresses and shifts, similar to what we’ve seen with Clayface.”

Jason lifted his face from the lenses, meeting Tim’s eager gaze, their faces inches apart.

“Oh,” Tim blinked. Freezing. “…I didn't realize you had so many freckles.”

The processor beeped suddenly, and Tim whipped away, wide eyed and flushed. He snatched a long sheet of paper from the printer, scanning the break down with interest.

“Does it match anything?”

“No, no hits,” Tim said, his brow furrowed. “But it’s chemical breakdown resembles what you’d see in ink.”

Jason crossed to him, his own forehead crinkling, “Ink. Like a pen?”

“Pen ink on steroids,” Tim expanded, handing the paper to Jason. “Likely dealing with a meta of some kind, maybe an alien life form. Or human experimentation gone wrong.”

“And they can compress enough to get under doorways, leaving no sign of forced entry.”

“Not the weirdest thing for Gotham.”

“But why are they knocking over apartments of people who can barely pay their rent?” Jason wondered aloud, setting the paper aside.

“Don’t know,” Tim shrugged, starting to clean up the area, “It could be their comfort zone. They could be doing practice runs for something bigger. Or they could be really young, just starting out.”

Jason gave a defeated sigh, folding his arms so that the white coat strained against him, “So, we have a vague idea of how, but not who or why.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” Tim said, and Jason could tell he really meant it.

“At lease we know what to look out for now,” Jason brushed it off, wanting to reassure Tim. “I can be sure to have a jar of paint thinner on hand.”

“Maybe I’ll buy you a squirt gun.”

“You won’t even splurge for a super soaker?”

“I thought big boys didn’t need big guns?” Tim teased.

“Who have you been talking guns with?” Jason asked, leaning over him, “That’s not your scene.”

“I discuss a wide range of weaponry with many people,” Tim replied smoothly, “I don’t have to like guns to know how they handle and who likes to handle them.”

“You’re always full of surprises pre-ssy bird.”

“I like to keep people on their toes.”

Jason smirked, pulling playfully at the opening on Tim’s coat, “If you wanted someone to dance with you could have just asked.”

“Well-“

“Hey, are you done in here?”

Tim stepped away from Jason’s bulk, swiveling sharply to the door. “Cassie, hello.”

She kept her eyes on Tim, standing almost intimidatingly in the frame, “I hate to interrupt but I’ve got a Super upstairs who’s about to have an aneurysm. Would you mind talking your boy down?”

“Yeah, we’re done,” Tim told her, his smile tight.

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Then let’s go.”

Tim nodded, “We’re coming.”

“Great,” Cassie smiled back, still propped in the door.

“ _Cassandra_.”

She gave a defeated sigh, shifting her feet reluctantly, “I’ll hold the elevator for you.”

“Sorry about that.” Tim grumbled once she left, dumping the coat in a bin and tossing the safety glasses in another. “She’s the boss for a reason.”

“Powerhouse.”

“Yeah.”

Jason shucked off his own, tossing it on top of Tim’s, taking his time to straighten his own clothes, “Rescuing you from the Big Bad Red Hood on behalf your knight in t-shirt armor.”

“Kon can’t come to the lab,” Tim explained, “We have kryptonite stored here.”

Jason snorted unattractively “Lucky me.”

“Don’t worry about Kon, I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

“Birdy,” Jason bit his lip, “you couldn’t stop him from hurting me even in Bruce’s Battle suit.”

“Just think of me as your shield,” Tim smiled, brushing his fingers against the back of Jason’s hand, pushing through the door. He walked down the hall towards Cassandra, who was standing ridged against the open elevator, eyeing Jason wearily as he followed. His clenched hand tingled from Tim’s brief touch, his mind over processing every tidbit of information he had received since his arrival.

Maybe he didn’t know as much about Tim as he thought.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, this is the last chapter for In the Morning, but the next piece is coming shortly. Bookmark the Birdtalker series so you don't miss an update! I hope you are all doing well, staying healthy, and happy and sane. Thank you for every one who had left comments and kudos, they really are the fuel to my fire. I love you guys! Be back really soon.  
> Bonus points for anyone who spots the Batman Beyond reference.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are love, and wonderful motivators.


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